Detention Woes
by Scribbler
Summary: Quistis Trepe is an instructor in the Radiant Garden training programme for Royal Guard cadets. In her job she's forced to face many challenges, but none can compare to running detention. And what's this about a crush on Commander Braig? Quistis/Xigbar


Are you any familiar with FFVIII

**Disclaimer****: **I own nothing but the arrangement of the words in the page.

**A/N****:** Written for thisisthesmile on the LiveJournal community KH Request. She asked for some Xigbar/Quistis. This fic is in the same pre-canon continuity as _The Most Dangerous Game_, a much larger fic that's chiefly from Braig/Xigbar's point of view, so if you want to know what eventually happens to Quistis and the other characters in this fic, that's the one to check out.

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_**Detention Woes**_

© Scribbler, August 2008.

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Captain Trepe sank into her seat at the faculty table, leaned her head on the back of the chair, arms flopping bonelessly at her sides and legs sprawled under the table so that she was in real danger of sliding onto the floor.

"Uh-oh," drawled one of those already sitting there. "Looks like someone's having a bad day."

"As soon as anyone sees Commander Braig, let me know. His neck has a date with my bullwhip."

"What'd he do?"

"He swapped his detention duty day with mine at the last minute. As in, he told me as he walked past that I was five minutes late."

"Doesn't sound too bad."

"Are you kidding? Do you know who was _in_ detention today?"

All eyes turned to her. It wasn't often the unflappable Quistis Trepe sounded so … well, _flappable_. As the youngest ever Instructor in the Radiant Garden Royal Guard training programme, she'd earned a reputation as a serious young woman of quiet assertiveness and restraint. The fact that she felt cut off from the students, who were closer to her in age than her colleagues, meant she was prone to bouts of brooding that further enhanced this image.

An image that, it has to be said, did _not_ lend itself to pouting like a toddler missing is rusk and talking about the Programme Director in less than flattering tones.

"Who was in detention today?" ventured Captain Fair, the Sword Master, whose advanced classes were always inundated because when students came to choose their specialist weapon most of them went for swords. If the idealised impression of a swordsman being someone who killed dragons, saved the day and got the girl wasn't tempting enough, students looked at Captain Fair and instantly wanted to _be_ him – or be with him, in the case of many hormonally challenged girl students.

Quistis checked the names off on her fingers. "Cloud Strife, Zell Dincht, Irvine Kinneas and Tifa Lockhart."

Fair whistled. "Sounds like fun."

"The sentence to describe it begins with the first two letters of 'fun', but ends with 'cking nightmare'. Kinneas spent the whole time trying to sneak his grubby little hands onto Lockart's thigh or breasts without me noticing, Dincht fell asleep and destroyed a table when Kinneas screamed and shocked him awake, Lockhart punched Kinneas in the crotch to _make_ him scream after he finally got his hands on her boobs, and Kinneas decided it was a good idea to hide from her behind _me_, which knocked me into the 'calming' fish tank those idiots in Lord Ansem's think tank decided would be good for 'troubled youths' to look at while writing lines. There were goldfish everywhere. One got into my shoe, which I didn't notice until I picked myself up and put it back on."

Fair winced. "Ew."

"It was pandemonium."

"And what about Strife?"

"He was okay, as usual. Stayed quiet, kept his head down, tried not to notice Lockhart was making cow eyes at him, and helped me clean up all the broken glass after he rescued the fish by putting them in my Best Teacher mug. Too bad it was full of scalding hot tea at the time."

Everyone winced on behalf of the poor dead fish.

"Bad things just seem to happen to that kid when he's trying to be helpful," remarked the Shuriken Specialist. "No wonder he never does anything without his little hero friend to lead the way and check it's safe first. He thinks the sun shines out of Leonhart's butt."

Fair chucked and shook his head. "Now if you'd said _Leonhart_ had been in detention, _then_ I would've felt sorry for you, Quisty. Adding that boy to the mix would've required a whole new detention room. Longest easily lit fuse to a violent temper I've ever met other than in the Commander himself." He speared a piece of asparagus with his fork, examined it, and then scraped it off again with a grimace. "Then again, if Leonhart had ended up in your detention I would've thought Commander Braig had been replaced with a pod person. He'd never put his prodigy in detention."

"Leonhart wouldn't do anything to merit a detention," Quistis mumbled, thinking about the stoic boy who'd entered the programme two years earlier than regular students, and still managed to be top of all his classes – just like herself a few years ago. "He's a model student."

"He's a robot," muttered someone whose identity Quistis couldn't place. Not many people would insult Squall Leonhart, and _nobody_ would do it while Commander Braig was in range. "He needs that Strife boy just to give him a personality."

"Now, now," Fair scolded. "Be reasonable. It's not often we get a prodigy to compete with those over at the Science Institute."

"Did you get a look at their latest one? His name's Ienzo. Creepiest little fucker I've ever laid eyes on."

"He's already part of the Xehanort Project, too."

"That takes their number up to what, five? Lord Ansem sure is picky about who he lets into that programme."

"Not that picky. He wants Commander Braig to join, after all."

General laughter went around the table like a Mexican wave.

Quistis frowned. Lord Ansem had invited Commander Braig to join some high-level project or other he was running with an elite circle of personally selected researchers, to encourage good relations between the combat- and academic-based corners of Radiant Garden's education system. "Commander Braig is a very intelligent man."

"Yeah, when he's not yelling like a madman and shooting the shit out of things."

"Reno!"

"What?" Captain Reno shrugged and stuffed fries into his mouth, having not even attempted the healthier menu options. So much for setting a good example for the students. "You're denying his trigger finger is itchier than a whore with herpes?"

"_Reno_!" Quistis's frown deepened into a scowl. "Zack, stop laughing. You're encouraging him."

Captain Fair hid his mouth behind his hand to conceal whatever food he sprayed through his laughter.

"He _is_ intelligent," Quistis insisted.

Reno's eyebrows waggled. "Ooh, sounds like _someone_ got herself a little _crush_ on the Commander."

Quistis did nothing to help her cause by blushing until her cheeks were the same colour as Reno's hair. "That's ridiculous. Relationships with other faculty members are strictly forbidden. And besides," she added in a less prim tone, "he's … well, he's _Commander Braig_."

Commander Braig, whose scarred face and missing eye should have rendered him much less attractive than he actually was – something soon fixed by the rest of his personality. Quistis sometimes wondered what had possessed Lord Ansem to put him in charge of an education programme when he redeployed his generals after the war. Braig despised paperwork with a passion, and until Leonhart came along he seemed to take no interest in any of the students. He could usually be found lurking at the shooting range, testing one of the many exotic firearms from his personal collection, especially when he was supposed to be in meetings about next year's curriculum, uniform policy, entrance exams and termly assessment schedules. Sometimes Leonhart was with him, since Braig was the only Gunblade Specialist that Radian Garden had ever produced and so had become the boy's mentor when he entered the advanced class. More often, however, Braig was alone, emptying clip after clip into targets and then going back his quarters – also alone.

For some reason this last thought sparked a ridiculous feeling inside Quistis. She actually felt _sorry_ for the Commander, even though he'd never expressed any regret about his solitude. Indeed, it was mostly self-imposed, since the only time he sought out company was when he spent time with Commanders Dilan and Aeleus, the other two members of the infamous Blood Trio, who'd made a name for themselves during the war only to be removed from active service when it ended.

"Whoops, she's getting a dreamy look in her eye." Reno's voice snapped her back to the present. "I rest my case. Quisty's warm for the Commander's form."

"I am not!"

"Then why are you blushing?"

"I'm just reliving my nightmarish detention and it's making me so mad I'm turning red. The only thing I feel for the Commander right now is hellfire-level anger for landing me with detention when he had _no possible reason_ good enough to change our schedules on such short notice."

"Maybe he's just hanging with is new buds now. I hear he and Xehanort have been getting pretty chummy over this new project. There's got to be a reason why the Commander's never been romantically attached to _anyone_, even in rumours, right?" Reno was watching for her reaction.

Quistis drew herself together and summoned her game face: cool, calm, and in complete control of herself. Her heels clicked together and her hands folded in her lap. The tiny changes had a much larger effect.

"Uh oh," Reno sighed. "Ice Queen Trepe is back. I knew this new _human_ Quistis was too good to last. Hey!" Reno brushed away the piece of asparagus Fair had flicked into his air. "Quit that. Zack! Quit it or I'll ram that Buster Sword right up your -"

Quistis smiled to herself, leaving her colleagues to their own devices as she went to fill her own tray, and pointedly ignoring the little voice that wondered where Commander Braig was eating his evening meal today.

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_**Fin.**_

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End file.
